Return to Patagonia
Patagonia is a land of pampas, rivers, lakes, and mountains carved by fire and ice. And fish.
In early February 2026, I set off on my eagerly anticipated second journey to the Aysén region of southern Chile—a place that had already captured my heart a year prior. My first trip in 2025 was a solo adventure, fishing out of Vista Patagonia Lodge in Coyhaique, a city nestled in the heart of Patagonia. That experience delivered everything I hoped for: plenty of large trout in challenging conditions, surrounded by the stunningly diverse landscapes of southern Patagonia. The team of guides, assembled by lodge owner Diego Garcia, were top-notch and a joy to fish with, which made all the difference for a solo angler.
Unlike my trip last year, 2026 was a group affair. I joined friends Tony Johnson, Steve Jones, and Peter Angerson for the adventure. We were guided by brothers Nico and Sebastian Gonzalez, who co-own Trouters Patagonia, a guiding operation based in Coyhaique. Tony and I fished with Nico, while Steve and Peter teamed up with Sebastian.
For six days, we explored a range of rivers, lakes, and even spring creeks, targeting brown and rainbow trout. Our travels took us from the pampas near the Argentine border to rivers just ten kilometers from the Pacific Ocean.
Before the trip, I spent hours tying dozens of flies. I was glad I prepared, as we used everything from small #16 Mayfly emergers to #6 Slumpbusters. Each had its moment. Nico surprised me by recommending tiny soft hackles, which fooled my second-largest brown trout. But swung through a fast riffle a Prince Nymph was money. Who knew!
What struck me was how uncrowded the rivers and lakes were, despite Patagonia’s growing popularity among fly fishers. Each day, our two boats fished separately, and I rarely saw more than one or two other boats all day—despite the number of lodges in the region. The solitude reminded me of fishing in upper British Columbia and was deeply appreciated.
Some moments are indelibly etched in my memory. One standout day was on a demanding river where we had to make 60+ foot casts into weed openings no larger than a coffee table—precision was everything. I went ten cast, three hooked, and felt lucky with a single fish to hand. It was tough, technical, and incredibly rewarding. Another highlight came on a lake during a sparse mayfly hatch, when Tony and I brought about a dozen feisty rainbows to hand (and I missed half again as many), some up to 16 – 18 inches, before intense winds forced us off the water. Thanks to Steve for suggesting I tie the Missing Link—it was the gamechanger.
I was pumped to see Tony best me most days in both size and numbers, and even Nico was impressed, noting Tony seemed always to be hooked up. On our last day on the Rio Maniguales, Tony landed several rainbows over 16 inches and pulled several sizable browns from the timber in tough conditions.
The weather in both 2025 and 2026 was, at best, challenging. Last year, a massive rainstorm the day of my arrival blew out the Rio Simpson and most other rivers for the entire week, accompanied by winds up to 50 mph. This year brought low water (no snowpack!), wind, rain, and even snow. But that’s Patagonia—fishing during the summer here means you are close to the Pacific and Antarctic waters, so unpredictable weather is a feature, not a bug. Huge props to Nico and the other guides; even in the toughest conditions, they found fishable waters and willing fish.
Reflecting on this return to Patagonia, I am most grateful for the camaraderie, the expert guidance, and the unforgettable experiences. Whether solo or with friends, fishing Patagonia is a privilege that stays with me long after I return home.
